


O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!

by CuteHeartz



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Politics, Anglo-American War of 1812, Battle, Fighting, Historical, Historical Accuracy, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Patriotism, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteHeartz/pseuds/CuteHeartz
Summary: Alfred boards a ship with a diplomat to negotiate the release of prisoners during the War of 1812. A thousand yards off shore, he gazed upon the sight of his flag waving over the ramparts.





	O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!

**Author's Note:**

> This project of mine was written to celebrate the Fourth of July. Many people don't know the story of how we got our national anthem, or even what the song means! Therefore, I decided to help with that with a touching, historical tribute to the events at Fort McHenry during the War of 1812. I tried to keep this as accurate as possible in order to give you all the full experience, so I really hope you enjoy it and take it's lessons to heart! Happy Fourth of July my fellow Americans!!!

" _O say can you see, by the Dawn's early light,_

_What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming?_

_Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight_

_O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming?_

_And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,_

_Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there_

_O say does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave_

_O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?_

_On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep_

_Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,_

_What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep_

_As it fitfully blows, half concealed, half discloses?_

_Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,_

_In full glory reflected now shines in the stream,_

_'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner - O long may it wave_

_O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!"_

**"The**   **Star-Spangled Banner" Francis Scott Key, 1814**

 

The first thing Alfred would recall about September 13, 1814 was that it was remarkably fine weather out today even though winter was upon them, and that it was equally calm on the waters off the coast of Fort McHenry despite being surrounded by British warships, cold cannon almost literally breathing down your back.

He knew the peace wouldn't last, though. He knew that something was bound to happen very soon, but for now he was content to take a moment and find serenity in the quiet. But he also knew that there was temporary peace right now for a reason. He had been sitting on a crate of gunpowder that morning in the fort with a group of other soldiers, cleaning their guns and discussing food and powder supply and their families waiting for them at home when a quite frazzled young courier, a boy who couldn't be older than 16 with wild brown hair and dark eyes, scampered into the fort. Many men immediately went over to him as the boy set his large correspondence bag on a crate with a huff and began to draw out letters for delivery to the men and military instructions for the officers. Alfred set his gun down and made his way over to the small crowd of soldiers, curious to see if any instructions or updates from President Madison had come for him.

He made sure to be mindful of his injuries. Only a few weeks prior, the British and some Canadian forces had invaded the capital and razed it to the ground. Every governmental building had been destroyed, the White House itself also falling victim to the flames of destruction. It burned until a heavy storm and even a tornado, a rarity for the city (and a blessing from God, in Alfred's opinion), tamed the fires and forced the British to flee the city after losing many cannon and men to the tornado's destruction. But the damage had been done. The White House was left as a smoking hollow frame, a skeleton rising from the ashes of the burned city. Alfred had obtained multiple injuries in the fighting, but the worst was a distinctive burn over his heart, a testament to his pain and the suffering he endured as his heart burned in his chest.

When he was finally healed enough to even leave his bed about a week ago, Alfred immediately wanted to set off to help his men defend Fort McHenry in Baltimore. The British decided that the port city of Baltimore, the nation's third largest city and one of the centers of shipbuilding, would be the perfect target to end the war, and they were expecting the city to fall as easily as Washington did, despite the fact that Baltimoreans had spent a year working on the city's defenses. And Fort McHenry was the city's main shield of defense, commanded by Major George Armistead with a regular garrison. Alfred had arrived to the Fort on September 10th, immediately getting to work helping the soldiers build up more defenses and ensuring that they had enough supplies to keep them operational.

He had arrived just on time. In the early morning of September 12, around 4,700 British troops under Major General Robert Ross landed at North Point, just north of the harbor. Brigadier general John Stricker and his 3,200 militia had been left to oppose them. Despite their fewer numbers, Stricker's skirmishers successfully killed Ross, forcing Colonel Arthur Brooke to take his place. Brooke's forces turned Stricker's men left and assaulted their center. After a short but deadly battle, Stricker retreated to a second defensive line, and with nightfall the British advance paused and Stricker retreated into the city. Meanwhile, scouting reports claimed that around 16 British ships were beginning to approach Fort McHenry, causing everyone to stay nervous and alert all night. Alfred passed multiple hours by helping tend to some of the wounded men from the Battle of North Point, then sleeping for only around four hours before waking himself up and deciding to get an early start on the day by helping organize the supplies and clean the guns.

Alfred peered over the men who surrounded the crate, examining the correspondence to see if any belonged to them. He didn't expect to see anything, but just as he was about to turn and go back to his seat and continue cleaning the guns, he suddenly spotted a small letter, more of a note, land on top of the pile with the name "Alfred F Jones" scribed onto it in elegant flowing script. Curious and more than a little surprised, Alfred reached out to quickly grab up the letter before it could be buried under the other letters being poured from the bag. He examined it closely, letting the familiar smooth, textured feel of the parchment slide against his fingertips as he walked back to his seat where the other soldiers had moved on to talking about the capital city. He sighed as he halfway listened in and began to open the letter. It didn't seem to have any especially important seal on it, so now he had no idea who could've written the letter. However, the seal did tell him that it was probably from somewhere in the Maryland state government. But the feel of the parchment under his fingers did send aching reminders of his supposedly lost Declaration of Independence and Constitution. He had tried to go back for them when he heard about the British advance towards the city, but Dolley had insisted he leave as soon as possible, that everything had been taken care of. At the time, he could only rely on her word. But now he fretted that the documents had burned with the White House. He prayed that that wasn't the case, but until told otherwise, their absence continued to gnaw at him.

Shaking his head of the negative thoughts, he sat down and carefully pulled open the letter. It was short, written in a script he didn't recognize. He carefully read over the cursive script.

"Dear Mr. Jones,

You are given the orders to find a Mr. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer from Baltimore. He has been tasked with the job of negotiating the release of American prisoners from the ships currently moored a thousand yards off shore from the Fort McHenry. You will find Mr. Key waiting at the docks to take you to the appointed warship and will travel with him as a representative of the American Government.

Godspeed

President of the United States James Madison"

Alfred's eyes widened at the name written at the bottom. President Madison must've set up a temporary office to monitor the war situation and wrote these orders to the Maryland state government officials to copy back and send to him.

Alfred folded the letter back up and stuffed it in his pocket as he got back up and set his gun down. He'd better go and quickly find this Francis Scott Key guy, then. He walked down towards the harbor of the Fort, passing by soldiers who were at work building fortifications and preparing their guns and cannon for the inevitable battle. It was about 5 AM, so it was still fairly dark, but he was starting to see hints of light in the sky. Eventually, he would start to see the red and pink hues of the sunrise paint the sky. Soon he was walking down the small wooden docks, the wood creaking slightly under his footsteps. This place was discreet, usually only meant for small boats to deliver some supplies from the city. Right now though, there was only a small group of men standing there and a rowboat sitting patiently in the water. Two men were obviously British soldiers, and the third man was dressed in a black suit and white cravat, with a head of dark brown curls and intelligent eyes. The third man watched Alfred approach for a minute, before fully turning in his direction and holding out his hand. "You are Alfred F. Jones, I presume?" He asked with a polite smile as he shook Alfred's hand. Alfred smiled back. "Yes. You're Mr. Key, then?" The man, Francis Scott Key, nodded and then turned back to the British soldiers. "Well, now our party is ready. Shall we get going?" He asked. All four of the men proceeded to carefully load onto the rowboat that would take them back to the warship that Alfred could barely see in the distance. The group sat in silence as the soldiers rowed the boat, the black waves gently rocking them and the salty air almost acting as a balm to Alfred's increasingly frayed nerves. He'd never been on a British warship before, and the thought of boarding one, especially when they were at war, was frightening to Alfred. Trying to calm himself as they slowly approached the towering ship, he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the mission at hand: negotiate for the release of the American prisoners trapped below the ship's decks.

With this in mind and with renewed determination in his heart, Alfred watched as the rowboat reached the side of the warship and a rope ladder was tossed down. The British soldiers grabbed the rope and secured it, then let Mr. Key climb on board first. When he was halfway up, Alfred began his own slow ascent to the deck. The climb seemed to take forever, and the rope was constantly twisting and swaying and threatening to slip Alfred. Eventually though, he managed to drag himself up and over the ship's railing, nearly falling to the floor as a result. He quickly straightened himself as the two British soldiers climbed up after him and looked around. He and Mr. Key were immediately greeted by who must've been the captain. He was dressed in a vice-admiral's full-dress uniform with the ribbon and star of the GCB and a sword at his side. The man seemed stiff and reserved, but greeted them formally. "Hello, Mr. Key, Mr. Jones. I am Rear Admiral George Cockburn of the British Royal Navy. I trust you're here to negotiate the prisoner exchange?" He asked Mr. Key. He nodded, and Cockburn led them towards his office below deck. Along the way they passed many soldiers also at work tending to everyday life in the ship. There were men cleaning the guns, some men counting up and organizing supplies, and others were simply there to watch over the negotiations and make sure they were not disturbed or maybe even to prevent any incidents from happening.

They entered the office and were greeted by more officials and officers who were also going to participate in the negotiation process. Eventually they all sat down at the large table towards the end of the room that was covered with many official documents. Soldiers lined the walls all along the room as Cockburn went to take his seat at the table.

As Alfred took another deep breath and prepared himself for the most likely challenging negotiating ahead, the last of the British soldiers entered the room and gently shut the door behind him.

* * *

 

It had taken an hour of careful diplomacy. An hour of hammering out detail after detail, but eventually a final agreement was reached. Among other accords, such as future treatment of American and British prisoners of war, the two parties agreed that men could be exchanged on a one per one basis. It was as good a bargain as they could get, and Mr. Key seemed pretty confident in the results. He was all smiles as everybody stood up from the table to shake hands in agreement. After this was done, Mr. Key asked Rear Admiral Cockburn if he could go down and see the American prisoners being kept there, to inform them that they would soon be freed. The Rear Admiral seemed kind of reluctant, but eventually gave his permission and instructed two soldiers to escort Mr. Key and Alfred downstairs to the holding cells before leaving to go and see to his own men above deck.

Alfred was very curious to see the state of his men. He'd been hoping to catch a glimpse of them anyway, to see if the rumors he had heard were true.

To his great dismay, they were.

The two men were led downstairs to find a great cargohold of humanity. Locked up in large cells were multiple scraggly, filthy, and malnourished men. The area was dark and the air stuffy, and Alfred could already feel himself begin to sweat from the condensed heat. He and Mr. Key looked on, horrified at the sight. Coughs and other miserable chatter rang out from the pathetic looking crowd, but some of the prisoners noticed the two men standing there and stared. Eventually the other prisoners took notice of their presence and the whole floor fell silent as the prisoners looked upon the two diplomats. Finally, Mr. Key cleared his throat and managed to string a few sentences together. "Men... you're free." If even possible, the room became even quieter after that. The men's stares slowly became one of awe and hope, something that Alfred knew they probably hadn't felt in a long time. "Tonight, I have negotiated successfully your return to the colonies. You will be taken out of this boat, out of this filth, out of your chains." 

It was quiet for a few more moments before an excited cheer began to spur amongst the prisoners. Many men were weeping, praying and thanking God for this miracle. Others were reaching out to them, trying to give them a tearful thank you. The sight was so overwhelming to Alfred that he could hardly stay down there much longer before bursting into tears. He grabbed Mr. Key's shoulder and whispered, "Shall we arrange for the men's passage back ashore?" Mr. Key nodded quickly, his eyes shining, and told the men that he would be back to assist in their passage back to the colonies while giving a few more handshakes to the tearful men. 

The two quickly ascended the stairs once more, their two guards following behind them. As they arrived back on the deck, they were quickly approached by the Rear Admiral, who interrupted before they could say anything. "We have a slight problem." 

Mr. Key's smile faltered slightly. Alfred shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure what to say. "What... seems to be the problem, Rear Admiral?" Mr. Key asked him cautiously. "We will still honor our commitment to release these men. However, I'm afraid it will be merely academic after today." There was silence among them. "What do you mean, sir?" Alfred asked quietly, alarms beginning to go off in his seat. A sense of dread was slowly rising in him, but he gulped it back. "Today, we have laid an ultimatum upon the colonies. Within thirty minutes, your people will either capitulate and lay down the colors of that flag that you think so much of," and there he gestured to the billowing Stars and Stripes waving over the ramparts. "Or we will remove Fort McHenry from the face of the Earth." Alfred's eyes widened in terror. He was almost rendered speechless, too stunned with fear and shock and the thought that the British were going to take them prisoner as well, that the prisoners currently in their cells would never again see the light of day.

"Sir.. I.. how?" Mr. Key gasped, he himself stunned by the ultimatum. Rear Admira Cockburn turned to gesture towards the horizon of the sea. "If you will," he intoned, "scan the horizon." The two slowly turned to look, and instantly felt that sense of dread settle in their stomachs. Emerging from the horizon, he could see multiple ships approaching, and upon counting them found there were 13. It must've been the ships that the scouting reports had warned of. "All of the gunpowder, all of the armament is being called upon to demolish that Fort." The Rear Admiral continued. "As you can see, the war is over. These men will be free anyway." Now frantic, Mr. Key begged to the Rear Admiral, "Sir, please, you cannot shell that Fort! That's.. that's a large Fort! It's full of women and children! It is predominantly not even a military Fort!" Indifferent, the captain brushed off the warning. "Do not worry about it, Mr. Key. After all, we've left them a way out. You see that flag, way up over the rampart?" He asked, gesturing once more to the bright billowing flag. "We have informed them that if they will lower that flag, the shelling will stop immediately. Then, we shall know that they've surrendered, and you'll now be under British rule." 

Alfred felt himself begin to tremble with fear and uncertainty, the lives of his citizens now at stake. Without giving them a chance to react, Cockburn turned and walked off to go and command his men, leaving Alfred and Mr. Key alone. They stood there in silence, fear filling their minds. Eventually, Alfred said, "Sir, what should we do? Should we request that we go back to McHenry?" Mr. Key immediately shook his head. "No, no I'm afraid not. They've probably all but declared us prisoners on this ship. We definitely will not be allowed to leave until this barbaric siege is over." He said bitterly. "Then, what do we do now?" Alfred asked. Mr. Key was silent, and then he suddenly turned and began to head back downstairs. Alfred followed him and their guards kept close behind. He didn't stop until he was back in the prison below deck, and the prisoners instantly brightened when they saw them again. "Are we going home now?" One man asked happily, his eyes shining with joy. Mr. Key slowly shook his head grimly, and the man's joy wilted. Mr. Key then started to inform the men about the ultimatum, and Alfred watched as the prisoners' fear steadily grew, even hearing some men call out in outrage as they were relayed the story. 

"How many ships are there?" Asked one prisoner. "At least ten," replied Mr. Key, which sent another wave of murmuring throughout the room. Then, Mr. Key took a deep breath and steadied himself for his next words. "Men, the ships are just within firing distance now. I will shout down to you what is going on as we watch." He said shakily. The prisoners murmured to eachother once more, unease and fear clear in their features. Then, Mr. Key and Alfred headed back upstairs.

They looked together upon the water. The sun was now rising, leaving a haze in the air. Now they could clearly see the Fort across the water, and the other warships were now cruising in very close to the fort in preparation for the eminent battle.

And all hell broke loose.

Alfred's attention was held by the deafening roar of the cannon from the massive fleet of British warships unleashing on Fort McHenry. The volleys were striking hard enough to shake the foundations of buildings in the Fort. Alfred found himself silently praying to whatever God would listen for the safety of all the women, children, and families forced to bear witness to this destruction. Alfred felt powerless to help his people himself; he would be stuck in the middle of the battle, only able to watch the battle from the side. 

Later, Alfred would learn of the land attack off North Point that accompanied the bombardment from the warships. Colonel Arthur Brooke resumed the infantry attack on Baltimore itself. As he came to position on Hampstead Hill, he found cleverly placed American troops situated behind extensive earthworks, well armed with artillery and ready to defend the city. 

Meanwhile, Alfred went about relaying information from Key to the prisoners down below whenever a new development would happen, rushing back and forth between the levels of the ship with information. Each time Alfred went down, the prisoners would ask him, "Is the flag still waving?" "Are we fighting them off?" "Do you see any kind of land invasion going on?" Answering as best as he could, he eventually went back up to the deck and stood by Key, watching the fighting unfold. They watched the shore, eyes transfixed, as the bombardment dragged into the afternoon.

Then, heavy rain and mortar shells began to deluge the Fort. Alfred suddenly saw one well aimed bomb fly over the walls of the Fort and explode to the screams of several men. Alfred winced, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. His men were doing a good job so far themselves, successfully firing their own cannon in time with the British, and fighting gamely. But Alfred wouldn't know how close the fight had been until he made it back to shore the next day. Around that time, a bomb made a direct hit to the main powder magazine of the Fort. Miraculously though, the bomb didn't go off. If it had, not only would it create a massive explosion that would've killed several people and probably families, but the Fort and maybe even the city would've fallen.

Eventually, the fighting drags on into the night. Alfred and Key can only stare up at the sky, both in awe and fear, as the sky repeatedly fills with both lightning and rocket glare, and as thunder claps and artillery blasts rattle all of Baltimore. It was like a deadly sound and light show over the Fort, and so much smoke had been filling the sky all day that it had become nearly impossible to make out the massive American flag waving over the ramparts. But Alfred knew that as long as those rockets continued bursting over the Fort, the fight would go on. The only glimpses Alfred could catch of the Fort were when the lightning would strike the land or when the red glares of the rockets would light up and he'd have just a quick second to see it.

From the deck still, Alfred and Francis Scott Key continue to watch, wait, and pray.

* * *

The bombardment lasts throughout the night in Baltimore harbor. It continued with vigor, almost seeming never ending. But inside the Fort, Major Armistead's men continued to return fire, unwilling to give up. Impatient and anxious, Key paces the deck of the ship, hoping the explosions would continue. Because if there was silence, it could mean that the Fort had capitulated. As they continued to watch in the darkness, Colonel Brooke's land force prepares a final attack on Hampstead Hill, at the edge of the city. Wanting to help him, Vice Admiral Cochran orders a diversionary attack against the western slope of Fort McHenry with a flotilla of 20 barges armed with artillery, but the Americans refuse to fall for the trick. Instead, their artillery continued to pound away at the diversionary force, successfully countering their attempt. 

Finally, Alfred drowsily looks up to see that dawn was beginning to emerge, the sun slowly rising and bringing with it the familiar colors of pink in the sky. He looks at the quiet scene before him with a sense of serenity about it. He was watching the sunrise for a few more minutes before he realized it: it was quiet. 

Alfred slowly turned back around to gaze with confusion, shock, and fear at Key, who mirrors his look. It must've been close to 4 AM, September 14th, and Alfred could hear nothing but silence from the American gun batteries. Ice water threatens to run through his veins then, and he could find no words to say. However, it couldn't mean the end of the battle, because suddenly the British bombardment continued on. Their flag must still be up. The fight must still be going on. It had to.

It continued like this for three more hours, until 7:30 AM, when finally everything fell silent once more in Baltimore harbor. For the first time in over a day, Alfred could hear the gently lapping waves of the water against the ship. The sound brought such relief to Alfred that he nearly cried from it. Down below, he could still hear the prisoners calling up to them, begging, "Is the flag still flying?" "Is it over? Have we won?" 

Alfred and Key go back to the railing and peer over the side at Fort McHenry, which was still consumed in smoke. They stood there, holding their breath, as the smoke slowly cleared. And then Alfred let out a cry he couldn't contain.

There, still waving in the wind, was the tattered but stubborn American flag, high over the ramparts, and still proclaiming this land as American.

The sight was so beautiful that it finally succeeded in drawing a few stubborn tears from Alfred's eyes. And to his relief, Key is equally as emotional, looking with such awe and reverence at the flag that Alfred is tempted to look away. The two look and see that one by one, the British warships begin to hoist anchor and set sail from the harbor.

Alfred sees happily that his men are cheering from the remains of the Fort, waving their hats, huzzahing, drinking, hugging, and proclaiming their allegiance to America. Key stares at this too, at the sight of the flag still waving in the dawn's light, at the men cheering happily, and he wipes another tear from his eye. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up letter and a pen, and begins to write on the back of it.

Alfred looks at him, confused. "Sir? What are you doing?" He asks him quietly. Key looks at him, eyes red and a smile on his face as he says, "I see the flag of my country waving over a city, strength and the pride of my native state. And does not such a country, and such defenders of their country, deserve a song?" He finished quietly. Alfred had nothing left to say, so he went back to watching the celebrations beginning onshore. "I shall call it... 'Defence of Fort McHenry.'" Key said as he wrote. "And it will grace the history books of our great nation." Alfred smiled.

"Yes," Alfred said. "It is a good day indeed for America." 

 

 

_"And where is that band who so vauntingly swore_

_That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,_

_A home and a country should leave us no more?_

_Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution._

_No refuge could save the hireling and slave,_

_From terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:_

_And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave_

_O'er the land of the Free and the Home of the brave!_

_Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand_

_Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!_

_Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land_

_Praise the Power that made and preserved us a nation!_

_Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,_

_And this be our motto:- "In God is our trust!"_

_And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave_

_O'er the land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!"_

**"The Star Spangled Banner" Francis Scott Key, 1814**

 

 

 

* * *

_Epilogue_

_The attack on Fort McHenry cost Armistead's garrison 4 killed and 24 wounded. British losses were around 330 killed, wounded, and captured. The Battle at Baltimore was a major contributor to the peace negotiations in Ghent, Belgium. Finally, on December 24, 1814, the Treaty of Ghent was signed to officially end the War of 1812 between the United States and Great Britain, and ushered in the start of an alliance between the two countries._

_Francis Scott Key's poem "Defense of Fort McHenry" is published in newspapers all across the country, and eventually is given the title of the "Star Spangled Banner" and was put to the tune of an old British drinking song called "To Anacreon in Heaven." The Star Spangled Banner was recognized for official use by the United States Navy in 1889, and by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson in 1916. It was made the national anthem by a congressional resolution on March 3rd, 1931, and it was signed in by President Herbert Hoover._

_It continues to be a symbol of the United States and the nation's most important song to this day._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this story and I hope you all have a happy Fourth of July!!! Again, I tried to keep it as accurate as I could so you could enjoy the full experience of history! This story was composed after watching many documentaries, internet sites, and videos, so it took a lot of work!


End file.
